


And can you kneel before the king / And say, "I'm clean, I'm clean"?

by luxuries



Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Knives, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Verbal Humiliation, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuries/pseuds/luxuries
Summary: Riko tries Neil's patience.Or:After another gruelling Evermore session, Riko holds Neil back to have a 'talk'.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Riko Moriyama
Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947232
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	And can you kneel before the king / And say, "I'm clean, I'm clean"?

**Author's Note:**

> No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint, Whumptober!  
> Content warning for maybe? non-consensual kissing (up to the reader to decide if Neil wanted it or not). There's also some memories of past injuries so watch out for that if you're squeamish.   
> title song is by mumford and sons, white blank page <3

If he could be anywhere else right now, he would be. The issue was, Neil was the catalyst. He was the reason he was in this situation. 

(It was everything his mother despised, everything she hated. Neil followed her laws, her dictatorship, because he had to. Not for survival. Not because he wanted to. But now, Neil can see the wisdom in her ways. The lengths she would go through to punish him when he messed up. It all made sense now. Caring for others was more deadly than the knives under Andrew's sleeves. More deadly than the scars that criss cross over his body like a canvas whose only purpose is to test the strokes. Figuring out the color (always red), the depth (too deep) and the length (too long, oh god, please stop it hurts.) They were ugly- they were mistakes. Neil carried them with him, as they multiplied and faded. Now Neil carried living, breathing people in his chest, and more often than not it was too heavy. _Martyr_ , Andrew would say with that minuscule furrow in his brows which Neil knew meant he was hurting.)

On his knees, with none other than Riko Moriyama looking down on him; his thin elegant hands on Neil's shoulders keeping him down. That, and the possibility of harm for the people he had come to love. They had just finished another taxing practice session, sweat still dripping down their brows. Fluorescent unnatural light flickers over Riko's face- the faint buzzing surrounding the locker rooms. He looks sharp- all shadow and edges and brutality personified. If people carried pieces of Gods in their DNA, Riko was given a tad too much. And he acted like it too. 

"You don't scare me." Neil hisses past clenched lips. 

"Then why are you shaking?"

Neil doesn't flinch as the knife lifts to his neck, forcing his chin up. Eye to eye with Riko, Neil feels new waves of anger (fury) settle in his bones. It was murderous- it was intractable. He had to handle it before he lost control. For his own sake.

"Say it again." Riko is smiling. Neil hasn't met anyone with a smile like Riko's. It held all the joy of a toddler, all the menace of a father. A private smile- reserved only for situations where he had full control and someone (anyone) was suffering.

"Are you hard of hearing?" Neil can smile too. They are not so different, him and Riko. It scares him. 

The pressure of the blade increases, digging into the skin of his neck for entrance. There is no pain, not really. But it does bleed. The warmth trickles down to his naked chest, collecting in the waistline of his sweatpants. Dyeing the grey cotton to a wine like connotation, fitting the color requirements of Evermore. Grand.

"Look at you," Riko glances up and down his body in a predatory manner, somewhat alarming Neil. "Absolutely vile." The words are scathing, but the tone is gentle. Like he's speaking to a child. It's disorienting.

"Not to your liking?" Neil tries not to shield himself with his arms, leaving them loose at his sides. To admit the insult struck would give Riko too much satisfaction. Neil knew he wasn't pretty- this wasn't news. However, he can't help thinking of Andrew. What would he say if he saw him like this? Disfigured and marred. An arrangement of scars splattered over his body, distracting and... ugly. What Andrew felt doesn't display how it looks. His mother's careful collection of hoodies and sweatshirts, of hiding all things abnormal. Never going to the swimming pool or the town lakes, sweating buckets in the summer. Nothing about it was pleasant. It was a defect he couldn't seem to run away from.

The knife lowers again, tracing over old puckered scars. It pauses on his shoulder blade, Riko leaning in closer to inspect the disfigurement that was his shoulder.

"Daddy didn't love you, hm?" 

Neil keeps his gaze steady as scenes flicker in his mind. There are voices that follow him to bed and the injuries that never stop bleeding, soaking into his pillow, filling up a room with his own mistakes for him to suffocate in.

He can't get the images out of his head- the sight of his skin, yellow beads of fat and the tar black of his burnt skin. The sounds of his flesh sizzling and screaming his throat raw- the scent of vanilla scented laundry mixed with charcoal- most importantly, his father. The sick expression on his face. The confusion of a child, the why, why, whys? Of slipping somewhere far away, somewhere where the pain can't touch him because he is immortal and strong. Where the words won't hurt him because he knows all, he knows better. But he'd always crash back to reality evantually.

He flinches.

"Who could love something like you?"

"I can-" He takes a breath, trying to control the quiver in his voice. "I can ask you the same question." Riko's eyes become slits. He drops the knife and it lands neatly between his feet. It clangs against the linoleum floor. Neil moves to catch it instinctively, but Riko kicks it away and looks down at him.

"Watch your tongue," The man grabs onto his jaw with one hand and uses the other to dig open Neil's lower lip. "Before I cut it off." He burrows his nails into the soft flesh of his cheek, unrelenting. He tastes like salt and trepidation, an offensive mix. Neil tries to lean his head back, create some distance, but Riko is strong and Neil is weak. 

"Not allowed." Muffled, incoherent. But the point was heard. Having his tongue removed wouldn't be beneficial to the Moriyama's. How was he supposed to praise them without it? 

"Not now, but someday. You'll be on your knees for me whenever I want." Riko spits, and it lands on Neil's mildly disgusted face. "I'll make Andrew watch- I think he'd like that, won't he?"

Neil wants to scream, he wants to reach for the knife and stick it in Riko's eye, effectively destroying his balance and forcing him out of exy. Instead, he wipes the spit off onto his pants and keeps real quiet. So, so weak. He watches as Riko crouches, making them eye to eye again. It should be reassuring to be at the same level, but Neil only feels anticipation. 

The raven studies Neil's face- how just his thumb can make the boy bleed and twitch. How much damage could he cause before lord Moriyama stepped in? The question was frequently on both their minds.

Neil counts to ten in French. Focuses on Riko's forehead rather than his smouldering glare. Focuses on the electric buzz of the lights above him rather than Riko's low breathing. He counts to ten in Spanish.

The thumb leaves his mouth, leaving a trail of spit from him to Riko. Neil is revulsed- Riko is engrossed. 

"Wha-" He wants to ask but-

Riko's lips crash onto his. Bruising and agonizing and nothing like the tender, inquisitive nature of his preferred kisses. This felt a little like the first girl he'd ever kissed- all youthful teeth and slobber, all ancient hands and punishment. It also felt a little like Nicky's kiss. Alarming and vertiginous. It was all parts bad, no parts good. And yet; he didn't pull back.

He lets Riko assert control over him with his mouth, pull his lip with his teeth. Taste the mix of his own blood, spilled by the enemy, and the mint gum Riko always chews when he's annoyed. It was so different to the smoky sweet daydream that was Andrew.

Andrew. 

Neil jerks out of Riko's hold and pushes his hands against the raven's chest, forcing him off. He stumbles up, knees numb from holding the position. After he regains his balance, he walks/runs to the doors. Riko stays seated on the floor- knees on the ground and hands in the air, embracing what should have been Neil but not now- not ever. The raven lowers his calloused hands, looks down at them, blood and sweat and, tears? His black hair hangs down his forehead, obstructing Neil's view of his face. But the boy tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling, seemingly already forgotten Neil. He stares at the ceiling and he looks all his 19 years, he looks all his indoor paleness and sleep deprived wildness. All parts god and no parts human. He looks so lost and angry and and and-

Neil almost pities him. 

But not enough, because he leaves the door clanging behind him without an ounce of regret.

**Author's Note:**

> could have done the 'held at gunpoint' but Nora already did that for us 🤪  
> Wanted to explore their relationship a little. They both have shit for dads, a nasty temper and a tendency to make mistakes.   
> It's def not an ideal or normal relationship, but hey i can have a little fun >:]


End file.
